what time is it (school time)
by DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows
Summary: Enrolling right at the start of the senior year and this is how he chooses to present himself? :: So, Alexander Hamilton has just entered his first day of high school. He's causing quite a stir, sir.


_Okay, first day of school,_ Alexander thought to himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Ratty grey hoodie, matted hair, worn-out sneakers, and a pair of old jeans - not to mention ridiculously huge eyebags. Seems kind of normal for him, but he can't help but raise an eyebrow. Enrolling right at the start of the senior year and _this_ is how he chooses to present himself?

Well, whatever. He's smart enough to hold his own.

"George?" he called out, entering the dining room. They had about twenty minutes left to go to school, and not to mention that even though it took a measly six minutes to actually drive there, traffic was erratic and unpredictable and it's seven in the morning and you never really know, do you?

He checked his watch; probably the only thing he let George buy him in the last five months since he started living here. A little on the cheap side, too, which was just how he liked it. He bet the older man wanted a more elegant kind of brand, but well. Alexander wasn't the only one who's learned how to read people over the years.

George was smart and reserved and a great chess player. Seabury might have been a shitshow of a social worker, but at the very least he got Alexander a decent enough family this time.

Sitting down at a mahogany table, his might-as-well-be father was enjoying a nicely brewed cup of coffee when he saw him. "Ah, Alexander," he said. "I was wondering when you'd come down."

"Soon as I woke up, sir," Alexander replied, grinning like a drunken sailor and managing a messy salute. "Couldn't really miss my first day, y'know?"

George chuckled. "Alright, I see how excited you are-"

"Well, yeah, of course!" Alexander beamed, "If any school is good enough for you to teach in, then I'm going to take your word in that it's great. I constantly wonder what it's like to be sitting in your class and believe me, it sounds like a fantasy."

"Enough of that," George sighed, standing up. He aimed a weary smile at Alexander, who was bouncing in his seat. "You know I don't teach there anymore. Teenagers, especially ones like you, proved too tiring to handle for an old man like me."

"I know," Alexander grinned cheekily as George handed him a plate. "Which is why I'll be first on the list of applicants for Columbia when I graduate. Can't pass up a chance to officially call you sir in front of crowd."

Grabbing his keys, George made his way out the door. "Well before you graduate, you actually have to attend school first. We leave in three minutes, and eat some toast before we do. You know how much Martha worries about your eating habits."

* * *

"You sure you'll be alright there?" George asked.

Exiting the car and carrying a backpack full of books, all Alexander did was another sloppy salute aimed at his old man. "You know me. Whatever they throw at me, I can handle it."

George shook his head at the boy, however he was smiling nonetheless. "Have a nice day, son. Make some friends."

Feeling a little sentimental, Alexander looked at him with an uncharacteristically shy smile. "Thank you, really, for this opportunity. I've never really had a good school before and you have no idea how much this means to me. I'll make you proud, Dad."

"I expect nothing less," George replied, approvingly. Then he drove off.

Alexander waited until the car disappeared before he turned around. He took in a deep breath.

The school was _huge._ And, sure, he's toured the place during the summer (twice, now! One time with George and Martha, and the other by himself - can't hurt to be too prepared for the new school year) and if it was impressive then, it was sure as hell daunting now. With a stiff jaw and a thundering heart, Alexander Hamilton made himself part of the sea of students and he tried to blend in.

For now, anyway.

* * *

John Laurens was the typical white kid. He had a huge house, a rich family, a father with a significant amount of influence, and a lot to live up to as the first son. He also had rambunctious friends, a tendency to get drunk, and an almost insatiable urge to fight people.

Except, you know. He wasn't white. And he was a little gay. And he hated racial injustice, probably because he had to see a lot of it in his hell of a life.

"Well, whatever," he muttered as he drove his way to school. "When I graduate, I'll finally be on my own. And everything will be just _fine._ "

He parked and entered the school to find Hercules and Lafayette. As usual, they were at their usual place - a small hangout just by the entrance to the main building. Hercules greeted him with a wink, and Lafayette stood up with a huge grin on his face.

" _Mon ami,_ it's great to see you again!" he laughed, embracing John with a one-armed hug. "You've grown a little taller over the summer, but I'm afraid you'll have to wear heels if you want to stand a _chance_ at surpassing _moi._ "

John shared a hearty chuckle with him. Lafayette had some sort of aura that just brightened up the room. "Trust me, it's great to see you too," he said, and sighed as he sat on a bench. "God, it's good to be back with the gang."

Hercules clapped him on the back. "That's the good a friendly face can do you, my man. Okay, now, look ahead of you because I have some news."

John shot an amused smirk at Lafayette. "He found some good gossip again, didn't he?"

Lafayette simply shrugged and smiled. "You know him."

"Damn right you both do; I have a _gift_ ," Hercules boasted, "And ya'll are lucky I choose to share it with you. Anyway, see that kid in the grey hoodie? Long hair in a ponytail, looks like he hasn't slept in a week?"

"Not a typical first-day-of-school look," Lafayette critiqued.

"Okay," John said, a little confused. "What about the guy?"

The _guy_ in question was not, in John's opinion, wearing a hoodie. He was wearing a hoodie's bastard son, exiled for being a disgrace to the family. His hair was a mess, he was carrying a backpack that was practically twice his size, and he was doing nothing but type something furiously on his phone. He was probably the definition of a hot mess.

Then again, all freshmen are a little nervous when they get to school. John couldn't really judge him on that.

"Hey man, lay off, he's just a kid," John protested. "He's probably _scared_ or something."

Lafayette rolled his eyes, "Exactly what I said to him."

But Hercules didn't really know how to let things go. It's great for however he gets the scoop on everyone in the school, but it's not really all that great for whoever he subjects to one of his information overloads. Which is, typically, either John or Lafayette or, most often, both.

His eyes were twinkling, and that wasn't a good sign. John mentally prepared himself.

"Okay, look," he said, giddily. "Laf's been here just a short while before you did, John, and I haven't really been able to truly illustrate to y'all the situation this kid is in. See, even though we've never seen him in our life, the word is that the kid's a _senior._ "

Lafayette raised an eyebrow. "He's our age? He looks so, how you say? _Petit_. Tiny. As fuck."

"Okay," John said doubtfully. "Even if he was, I don't really see the big deal here, Herc. So we get a new batchmate the year before we graduate. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Happens all the time in movies, right?"

"How wonderfully cliche," Lafayette drawled.

Hercules drew in a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. "Okay, but you guys are _not_ gonna believe this. We got here about the same time, and damn was it was a sight for sore eyes. Y'know how much we miss Washington right?"

The three boys groaned in harmony.

"Awesome guy," John said, remembering how he got to hold a sword in for his history class.

"One of the only teachers I've met that actually teaches," Lafayette sighed fondly. "Kind as well, no? The man treated me as if I was his son."

Hercules chuckled. "That he did. Well, apparently Washington drove the kid here. And the kid called him _Dad._ Isn't that interesting enough to get your attention?"

John laughed. "That sounds pretty unlikely, Herc. Look, maybe it wasn't Washington. Or maybe it was, and you just didn't hear right. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue or something."

Lafayette, however, grinned. "Well, whatever it is, we can just ask him, can we not? He's just there, you know."

"You know how much I like spying though," Hercules whined.

"Hey, do whatever you want and I'll come with," John said, standing up. He clapped Hercules on the back, at least twice for good measure. "Just know that I ain't buying this for a second. Look, personally, I don't think the kid is all that special-"

A large shout came from the crowd of students.

"You fucking immigrant piece of unholy _shit!_ " screamed Jefferson.

"The fuck happened there?" John asked in alarm, looking towards where the damned, slimy bastard was standing, a hand covering his right cheek.

Hercules' eyes were twinkling again. "I don't know, but I'm sure as shit figuring it out."

Even Lafayette's interest was piqued. "Still think the kid isn't special, John?"

Because right in front of the furious Jefferson, was Ratty Grey Hoodie Kid with fire in his eyes and a fist held out with red knuckles for everyone to see. His mouth was nonstop, his hands were everywhere, and though John couldn't hear a word of what he was saying, the fact that there were cellphones out trying to record the event said a lot. Eventually the kid ran out of air, visibly huffed, and left the scene with his enormous backpack in tow. Jefferson was still spitting indignantly when the doors closed.

"Okay," John admitted. "I might have been a bit wrong."

* * *

Punching the student council's president probably wasn't a good way to start out his first day of high school. But damn, did it feel _good._


End file.
